


A Strange New Scent

by Illyrianwitchling



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Grab a tissue, Morning Cuddles, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV First Person, POV Jude Duarte, Post QoN, Sleepy Cuddles, Tumblr Prompt, jurdan-freeform, this is tender af, you smell nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27437428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyrianwitchling/pseuds/Illyrianwitchling
Summary: Waking in the morning Cardan notices a strange scent on his wife. What could it be?
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 12
Kudos: 178





	A Strange New Scent

I feel him shift closer to me in our bed underneath the heavy blankets and sheets of spider silk. He is now holding me tightly, entwining lean legs with mine. The comforter wrapped around us and his bare chest is resting against my back. Both of us enveloped in warmth. So much so that I can feel the heaviness in my lids. They’re fluttering shut briefly, a haze of sleep trying to take me.

Cardan’s hand is running along my body. I feel his fingers dance along my side. Tender and soothing, how he does every morning. I admit, in the beginning, the sensation was strange to me. No one ever touched me in such a caring and loving way before. Though in the past, I never gave someone a chance. Now I find when he wakes before me, and I don’t receive these touches, my day is thrown off. It’s as if those loving caresses keep me calm and steady throughout the day. 

Once he gently strokes my side, his hand flattens against my stomach. Cardan continues his exploration of my nakedness. Though it is far from the first time. A finger slides around my navel, his way of deciding where to go. I breathe in deeply to his feathery touch, a smile warm as sunlight protrudes on my face. I bury my head into the lush pillows awaiting his choice—my breasts, between my thighs, or the closeness of his hands. 

The latter won out.

Tucking an arm under my body, he tugs me a little closer, if that is possible. Cardan’s palm splays against my taut stomach extending out towards my arm and hand on the bedspread. I can’t help the way my heart flutters whenever his fingers slide into mine. That Cardan and myself were always meant for this. To be as one. To me, I receive the same feeling as Nightfell in my grasp. A sense of home and rightness.

A ringless thumb brushes over the stub of my finger. I simultaneously hate and love when he does this. The act is more vulnerable than any intimacy we share with our bodies. It is one of the many ways he says, I see you, without muttering any speech. The thought alone could bring me to my knees. His face buries into the tangled, sleep riddled mess of my hair. 

Warm breaths and a gentle moan from a night of well rest grace my ear lobe. Then there’s a sharp inhale. I feel his chest rise as he breathes me in. His lips brush from my neck down to my collarbone, stopping at the curve of my shoulder. My husband rests his head in the crook of my neck. Soft, tousled curls black as a crow brush along my cheek. Lazily he kisses my jaw, taking in my natural scent again. His smile is complete, I could tell from the way his mouth moved, and cheeks rose. I don’t know if he knows; at this moment, my expression matches his.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs.

I find it a strange thing to say. He’s known my scent. Tells me I smell of rowan berries and black currants, like a wine made from the Gods themselves. I believe that’s a little extreme. With all the confidence of his kingly status, Cardan always kisses me soundly after, as if I truly am a wine from the Gods, and he wants to drown in the taste.

“Don’t I always smell the same?” I question, angling my neck, giving him access. He takes the hint trailing languid kisses in his wake. 

“Usually,” his voice still thick from sleep, “This is a new scent I can’t place. However lovely it is wife.”

I chuckle, “Your fae senses are failing you, husband, if you cannot determine a scent.”

Our joined hands lay on the mattress cradled to my stomach, making me think of a tiny babe curled into its mother. The padding of his index finger touches me, sweeping just below my navel.

“I don’t think that’s the case, Jude.” He speaks with an intention. As though should know what he’s talking of. “This scent is only starting to develop.”


End file.
